


Is It Weird?

by rebelwriter6561



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake AH Crew, First Time, M/M, Snark, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer, mixing work with pleasure, questionable medical practice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-10-27 20:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: Is it weird that you fall into bed with your kidnapper after you try to kill each other? Is it weird that it happens more than once? Is it weird that you kinda want it to happen more often?





	1. Chapter 1

“Is it weird if I turn on the music?"

The other side of the car was quiet, nothing but the noise of the tires hitting the road. No answer. Ray swallowed, a solid pit in his stomach. It would have been nice to have some conversation before the inevitable end.

"Yes."

The voice was hoarse, strained with pain. But it was an answer. Ray secretly rejoiced before his mouth took off again. "You gotta admit it's way too quiet though, right?" he argued. "Like, I'm not saying we should be singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs right now, but just _some_ background music would be nice." No answer. "And I'm totally not used to driving without music. Like, it feels weird. Or like not even talking while I'm driving with someone. Aren't we supposed to be having a philosophical conversation about the nature of the universe right now or something?"

Ray snuck a quick look at his passenger. Kidnapper? Hostage taker? Whatever. Gun was still up in one hand, the other around his waist. Probably keeping his organs in place. The side of his face turned towards Ray was shiny with blood. And confused.

"Why would we do that?" Ray couldn't gauge if he was genuinely curious or fed up. Which was worse?

"’Cause that's what you do on long car rides!" Ray answered quickly. "It's too dark to play I Spy, what else are we supposed to do?"

"Pretty sure you're supposed to trembling in fear or something." From the corner of his eye he caught a bloody grin. Thank God, he was playing along. For now.

"Well, no offense, but I figure I'm good for now," Ray answered back with a nervous grin. "You know, since I'm driving." He wasn't dead as long as he was still driving. And if he could keep the guy talking, maybe he could talk his way out of getting shot.

If not, well…not much he could do about it anyway.

The road curved, and an alarming prolonged squeak reached their ears. The grin turned into a worried frown. "That's the other thing," Ray pointed out. "When you're playing music, you can't hear the car falling apart! You wanna sit and listen to that shit?"

"Why don't you just fix it?" his passenger pointed out dryly. 

"First of all, not my car." That seemed to come as a surprise to the other guy. As if the idea of Ray stealing someone's car meant anything when his kidnapper had a gun pointed at his face. "Second of all, even if it was, who gives a shit? Look at this thing." To prove his point, he batted at the loose cruise control buttons hanging by their wires from the steering wheel. "What's the point of fixing a piece of junk like this?"

"So you'd rather remain in blissful ignorance provided by the music covering up your problems?"

"Exactly!" Now he was getting it. "Would you rather know your death is coming, if there's nothing you can do about it, or would you rather not know and not have to worry about it."

"You tell me." The quiet solemn words brought Ray back to the situation, the odds that he wasn't going to talk his way out of this situation and would die as soon as he stopped driving. Happy thoughts. Turning his head just enough to make his point, Ray looked the other guy in the face, looked at the mess of his left cheek and the bruises forming around his eyes, the soaked jacket against his stomach not doing much to stop the flow of blood.

"I'm fine with knowing," Ray decided. "Shit's gonna happen eventually, so what's the difference knowing it's coming sooner rather than later? You?"

A painful-looking shrug. "I'm sure I'm gonna bite it soon anyway." Yeah, Ray wanted to agree, from blood loss at the rate he was leaking. "I'd rather get taken out quick, in the middle of something, rather than someone deliberately dragging it out. Just hurry up and get it over with." 

That made sense, given the circumstances. 

The car was quiet again, the mood ruined. Just when they were getting to the snappy banter instead of Ray's nervous rambling. All Ray could hear was the strained breathing coming from the passenger seat. The unignorable awareness that he was driving towards his own death was looming again. Not great. Not great at all.

"Not like I'm in a hurry to die here, but where the fuck am I going?" That was a perfectly valid question, he'd been given no instructions besides "drive" when the guy had shown up with the gun pointed at his head. So he'd driven them all the way to butt-fuck nowhere with no other input. And going from the look on the other guy's face, he didn't know where the fuck they were going either. Great.

"Sorry, haven't been keeping an eye out for an appropriate abandoned place to ditch your corpse." Despite himself, Ray laughed. Was he imagining it, or was that pain in his passenger's voice? "Just drive until I tell you to stop." Threatening words coming from a guy who looked five seconds from passing out.

"I know it might be against my best interests, but please don't die in this car," Ray tried to joke. The laugh he got was more of a pained bark.

"Bodies are a bitch to clean up," his passenger slurred. "Easier to move while they're alive. But corpses aren't as chatty."

"Morbid, ain't ya?" Ray pleasantly agreed, one sneaky eye on the bloody fabric in his hands. He might still live through this.

Ray took an exit and kept driving, half his attention still on the other guy. The gun was still holding firm, but the rest of him was flagging, clear distress on his face. The blood on his face was no longer slickly reflecting light, but there was no way his abdomen injuries were done. If Ray could make it past the point when he passed out from blood loss, he could make a run for it. 

And then he'd be stranded in butt-fuck nowhere with the racist hicks. Honestly, he'd rather get shot first.

"Here."

Ray hit the brakes, guessing their destination was the bait shop on the side of the road. "Yeah, this looks like a great place to pick up tetanus," he remarked, driving them around the back. It looked like an even better place to ditch a dead body. 

The other guy didn't answer aside from a weak chuckle. Ray parked, took a deep breath, and looked over. The other guy was struggling with the door, movements slow and unfocused. The gun wasn't in his face anymore.

'Just go,' Ray ordered himself as he got out of the car. 'Just run, get away, now, while you have the chance.' It wasn't like his kidnapper was in any shape to chase after him. He neatly pitched straight out of his seat when Ray went around and opened the door for him. The way his eyes went wide told Ray all he needed to know. That it would be so damn easy to finish the job.

With the interior lights on Ray could really see the dark stains on his shirt and all over his hands. Ray had seen for his own eyes what had happened, the way the knife had plunged in as his old crew dragged him away. He had run then, got his stuff and stole some keys with every intention of leaving and never coming back. And yet, just as he left the hideout, the other guy came stumbling out, covered in blood, got in the car with him and demanded he drive.

That's what he got for running.

"Come on, up," Ray ordered, getting his hand under the other guy's armpits and hauling him to his feet.

The other guy stumbled, almost pulling Ray back down. "Wha‒" he grimaced as Ray started moving them towards the building. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life," Ray snapped, propping him against the wall so he could figure out the door. This sort of place was too far back in the boonies to have a security system, at least not the traditional kind. He hoped they'd have a few minutes before the shotgun wielding owner showed up. "I save your life, you spare mine. Capisce?"

"You already did." He sounded tired, hand trembling as he brought it up to point to his face. He didn't need to say anything else. Ray knew what he was getting at. "Your methods are very unconventional."

"You're not in a position to complain." The lock was easy to break. Ray shoved them through the door, dragging him along to the back, aiming for where the bathrooms were most likely located. Compared to the darkness outside, the lights in the bathroom, bouncing off the shiny outdated wallpaper, was blinding. It was doing nothing for the other guy's completion, pale under all the blood not where it was supposed to be.

Ray awkwardly sat him on the toilet. "You wait here," he ordered, already thinking. He'd only seen the thing done once, in a totally gross episode on one of the science channels on TV, but he was pretty sure he could figure it out if he had the right stuff‒

"Ryan."

"What?"

His former kidnapper blinked sleepily at him. "My name's Ryan," he slurred.

"Cool, I'm Ray," he answered without thinking. He pointed his finger in Ryan's face. "No dying."

"No promises," Ryan slurred back.

Ray yanked several brown paper towels from the dispenser, passing them over before he left. He zipped through the darkened shop like he meant business, grabbing a fine selection of fish hooks from the fishy-looking side of the store, then hopping to the aisles that had a mini-pharmacy's worth of stuff. It was too much to hope that they had proper bandages, much less an actual suture kit, but he could make do. Ray jogged back to the bathroom, detouring to grab some orange juice from the lighted refrigerated section.

"Okay," he started as he barged through the door, "ready for the worst thing to ever happen to you?"

Ryan had gotten his face cleaned up with the paper towels, using water Ray really hoped came from the sink. The angry split in his cheek still glinted with blood, but it didn't look life-threatening. Unlike the rest of him. "You have some damn high expectations if you think this is the worst thing to happen to me." 

Ray really didn't like the implication of that. He dumped most of the stuff in the sink, opening the juice for Ryan and passing it over. "Drink," he ordered, hoping it would be enough.

His patient obligingly drank, eyes fixed on Ray as he knelt to get closer to his stomach. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he asked, words raspy in his throat.

"I mean, just an idea, but yeah." Ray carefully pulled back the saturated fabric against the wound. It didn't look great. "You'd be able to tell if you had an internal injury, right?"

"Beats me." Great, he didn't know either. "I do know how to stitch a wound. In theory."

So neither of them knew what the fuck they were doing. Ray sighed and reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol he'd snagged. "This is probably gonna get me right to the top of your hate list, right?" The sharp smell filled the air between them.

"You're not‒" Ryan cut himself off with a hiss as Ray dumped the bottle over his injuries. His whole body convulsed, blood mixing with the alcohol dripping down his jeans. Ray quickly yanked some soft paper towels from the roll and pressed them to the wounds. "Not on my hate list." Ryan finally ground out. "Top of another list though." He had the audacity to wink down at Ray at that.

Like an idiot, Ray felt his face heat up, but tried to brush it off. "Wow, really? Even after that?" Keep him talking, not thinking about the shit happening. Ray could see the stab wounds now, open and leaking. The sight turned his stomach, the smell of blood mixing with the alcohol. God, he didn't know what the _fuck_ he was doing, he was probably just gonna kill the guy faster. It'd almost be great if he planned it, but…

"Why don't _you_ hate me?" The soft question had to be from blood loss. Ray shook his head, getting up while mentally kicking himself for not grabbing ice. Ryan was looking at him almost sadly, like he really wanted an answer. Damn.

"Need to numb ya before I start sewing you up," Ray deflected, already turning towards the door. Ryan's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, deceptively strong. 

"Ray." The piercing look was back. "If I'm gonna die‒"

"You're not _gonna_ die," Ray shot back stubbornly.

"Why? Cause you're gonna fix me?" Ryan shook his arm. "Why didn't you run? Why aren't you running? _Why didn't you go for the jugular in the first place_?"

Yeah, that was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Ray stared at Ryan, the scared but focused look on his face. Who by all rights should be dead, because of Ray, but was still alive because of him, and was going to stay alive because of him.

"Because I fucking didn't want to, okay?" Ray snapped back. Ryan was already opening his mouth to argue about the lack of answer but Ray plowed on. "Because I was sick of those assholes telling me what to do, and bossing me around, and treating me like shit. I didn't kill you when they told me to cause I didn't want to put up with them anymore. Not to save your life. Because _I_ wanted to live."

The admission was as cold as the air around them. Ryan blinked up at him, and, shockingly, smiled.

"Damn, refreshing honesty," he muttered. Ray blinked at him.

"Seriously? You're bleeding out right now, and you hear that and you're _okay_ with it?"

"I mean, my first thought was that you were going to use my weakness and exploit me." Ray's snort made his thoughts on that clear. "Not that I wouldn't mind a little exploiting from you. But you're really just as selfish as I am."

"Well, let's bond over our mutual assholery later, okay? When you're not leaking so much." Ray twisted his wrist, and Ryan let him go. Ray pretty much ran from the room. He was shaking as he got the ice, and it wasn't because of the cold. God dammit, Ryan was a fucking weirdo. He didn't seem to care Ray by all rights could still fuck him up. He was even fucking _flirting_! But then, Ray knew he was also on the weird spectrum himself. He was the one fixing wounds he'd caused without having to be threatened or bribed into it. Whatever.

Once he was back with enough frozen things to do the job, Ray elected to act as if that embarrassing revelation had never happened. He pressed the crinkly bag of ice cubes to Ryan's stomach, but didn't want to open it up to get a few for his face. "Sorry, best I could find," he lamely apologized, passing Ryan a frozen burrito to press to his face. 

"Can't be picky," Ryan said, half muffled by the thing on his face. Ray thought he could be picky, given the situation, but was being very nice about it. He busied himself getting the fish hooks out of their packaging and dousing them in more rubbing alcohol. He breathed deeply, trying to stop his hands from shaking. God he was so nervous, but that had to be nothing compared to Ryan, who's life was in the hands of the guy who'd stabbed him in the face. How fucked was that? 

Ryan obligingly moved the ice when Ray checked his abdomen again. The bleeding had slowed, the skin cold to the touch. "Okay," Ray breathed, threading dental floss through the eye of the fishhook. "Hopefully this'll hold you together enough. I don't think I can find a better needle, but I can try if you want."

"There are worse things I could be stabbed with."

Well now he was getting pretty damn blatant, complete with exaggerated wink. Ray found he couldn't think of any way to flirt back. His brain always shut down _hard_ in those situations. Besides, there was a lot of blood he had to focus on.

Ray knotted the end of the floss, kneeling in Ryan's space to get to his injury. Ryan leaned over to watch. "Can you not, you're blocking the light," Ray grumbled, pushing at Ryan's arm.

"I feel like I have the right to watch you do surgery on me." Despite his words, Ryan did lean back enough for Ray to see what he was doing. 

"Okay," Ray hissed. Before he could chicken out, he grabbed the patch of skin on one side of the flesh and stabbed the hook through.

Ryan's pained noise echoed around the room. He flinched, but not the second time Ray stabbed metal into flesh, probably because he was so tense he looked like he was about to fall off the toilet. Ray tried to be quick, pulling the two sections closed and trying off the floss."Sorry dude," he apologized. Not for anything in particular. "I'm trying to go fast here."

"Don't be." Ryan sounded understandably strained. "This is what I get for getting caught."

"What were you snooping around for?" Ray asked, not because he wanted to know ‒ he was past the point of caring about his old gang ‒ but to keep Ryan talking and not focused on what Ray was doing. "Was it like extra credit for your criminal justice course or…"

Ryan had the decency to laugh. "Something like that." O-fucking-kay. "Thought I could do it myself, but, well…" he shrugged. "You know what happened."

"Well, if I can give you some self-serving advice," Ray said distractedly as he finished his next round of stitches, "next time don't go lurking around areas where your blinding white ass will be spotted in a second."

A pause of silence. "Ohh." He got it. "That's how your gang caught me?"

"No shit, you stick out like a sore thumb. Get a look that blends in better." Ray yanked too hard on the floss, making Ryan hiss. "Or get a look that makes everyone who sees you shit their pants in terror."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ryan was sounding hazy again. Good thing Ray was almost done. He tied off the last slice, grabbing the roll of paper towels and unfurling the whole damn thing. "Sit up straighter," he ordered, and proceeded the mummify the shit out of Ryan's middle. There was no medical tape, so he used duct tape to hold it all together. Real professional. 

Ray groaned as he got up off his knees, surveying his work. "That is a great look on you," he said with a cheeky grin, just to be a dick.

"Good enough for a pity fuck?" Ryan asked hopefully. Ray ignored him, stepping back close to examine his cheek. Ryan helpfully tilted his head towards the light. "You think it needs to be stitched?"

"I better," Ray agreed. "Don't wanna fuck up your pretty face."

Ryan's laugh caused more blood to escape the wound. Ray didn't even want to think about what was happening on the inside of his mouth. Stomach injuries were one thing, if he saw Ryan's teeth through that wound he would wig the fuck out. 

"Maybe I should leave it though," he offered. "Be kinda handy having a hole in your face. And chicks dig scars."

"Do guys?" Ryan asked with a purposeful look. Ray rolled his eyes at him. Yeah, he dug it, so sue him.

He was a little more confident now, but he still went slow, trying to be neat. Ryan did have a seriously pretty face, pretty enough to be a model, if it weren't for his apparent desire to be a fucking criminal."

"Why are you okay with this?" Ryan at least had the decency to ask when the hook wasn't in his face. Ray shrugged.

"I already told you, my old gang was a bunch of dicks. And you told me I'm not on your hate list anymore, so I figure I'm good, right?"

"You're staking your future survival on the chance I'm going to be decent and keep my word?" There was a threat in his voice for the first time since he'd gotten in the car. Ray remembered hearing the gunshots that had ended his old gang, the fear that had punched through him with the knowledge that if he didn't move, he'd be dead too. 

"You owe me," Ray reminded him grimly, without taking his eyes off his work. "Don't tell me you would've gotten out without me stabbing you."

It was a fluke, one hundred percent dumb stupid luck. His gang had been urging him to slit Ryan's throat, prove he was one of them, but Ray had gone for the face. The knife had sunk into his cheek, soft as anything, no resistance. He felt when Ryan had bitten down on the blade.

The knife had snapped. _It had fucking snapped_. It was a cheap flimsy thing, and broke under the pressure. Leaving Ray holding the handle while the rest of the blade was still in Ryan's mouth.

He didn't know which one of them was more surprised by that. He'd caught the wide-eyed shock in Ryan's eyes before he was dragged off to "be taught a lesson". No one else noticed the incomplete knife. Ray had run, and soon after, Ryan had started fighting back and killing them all. Ray had no doubts that Ryan had gotten the blade from his mouth, and used it to aid his escape. And the quiet look currently on Ryan's face showed that he understood that as well. 

"I'm glad you went along with everything." Ryan shrugged without moving his head. "It was worth getting stabbed so I could get to know you."

"Yeah, super romantic," Ray said as he tied his final knot. Ryan was all sewn up, now things were going to be awkward again. "Did you have a plan past this point?"

"Uhh…" Probably looking to stall, Ryan staggered off the toilet over to the mirror, looking over Ray's handiwork. "No, actually, I kinda thought I'd be dead at this point, so..."

Ray groaned. Why did he have to be the responsible one? He grabbed Ryan by the shirtsleeve and drug him out of the bathroom. He made sure he was loaded properly into the car before dashing back inside. The storage closet conveniently had some handy jugs of bleach, and Ray doused the bathroom that had just vacated. The storage room was attached to some kind of office, and Ray ransacked it until he found the security tapes. A few good yanks on the film, and they were evidence-free.

It wouldn't be worth anyone's time to dig deeper. He wasn't in the system and hopefully neither was Ryan, the bleach would get rid of the DNA (according to some forensic show he saw once) and since they didn't steal much of anything, there wouldn't be any reason to investigate. He hoped.

"Where to now?" Ray asked as he got back in the driver's seat. Ryan was listing against the passenger door, looking five seconds from passing out again. At least he had brought the ice, and more juice.

"Somewhere safe." Ryan's eyes were closed and his voice was soft. Ray ignore the stupid feeling in his chest and put the car in drive. It was up to him then.

It took a few hours of driving, but he found a place, some sketchy-looking roadside inn. Ryan was fully passed out, so Ray booked a room and dragged his unconscious ass inside. Ryan didn't even twitch, not even after Ray got settled and ordered pizza. Only the soft sounds of his breathing let Ray know he wasn't sharing a room with a corpse.

It stayed that way for two days. Ray ate through two pizzas and the cheap junk food he raided from the convenience store down the street. The bandages were changed out to clean paper towels, and he kept a close eye on the stitches in case of infection. But Ryan didn't so much as twitch. 

He had to go. It wasn't right, Ray argued with himself, angrily flipping through the shitty cable channels for the millionth time. The guy had taken him hostage and wasn't even awake to make good on his threats. Or flirts. He should just go, let the maids deal with his passed-out ass, go and never look back. Wipe this whole weird couple of days from his memory and start over. Maybe Ryan would live, maybe he wouldn't. But he wouldn't know if he left, and he would be just fine with that mystery.

"You're still here?" 

Ray jumped at the quiet words, barely audible over the TV. Ryan hadn't moved, except his head, turned towards Ray and blinking sleepily. But awake. Finally.

"Hey." Ray scrambled off his bed and onto Ryan's, ignoring the awkward in order to get close. "How're ya feelin?"

"Like shit." Ryan turned his head so Ray could see the stitches better. "But alive. I have you to thank for that."

"Well, you're fucking welcome." Ray moved his hand to Ryan's forehead, trying to feel if he had a fever. Was that much sleep after blood loss normal? He didn't expect him to be totally alright immediately, but what even was normal for this?

Ryan's hand lifted to grab Ray's. Loosely holding it between his fingers, he brought it up to kiss the back of it. "Maybe my prince charming could kiss me better?" The eyebrows waggled suggestively. 

"You need to fucking stop," Ray dryly answered back, leaning back to prepare to check his abdomen. Fuck this nurse shit, it was worse when he was awake. When he was passed out he wasn't flirting and making the feeling in his stomach worse.

"Are you not interested?" Ryan's voice abruptly turned serious. A worried frown appeared, looking out of place on his face as he avoided Ray's eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, I just got nervous and thought flirting would help‒" 

"I mean stop because you have a hole in your stomach!" Ray cut him off. "Not cause I'm not interested. And you've got some of the worst pickup lines I've ever had the mispleasure of hearing."

Ryan looked stunned, before the grin came back in full force, hopeful and happy. "But I got you to take care of me," he pointed out. "So mission accomplished."

"Okay, yeah, you get points for being one of the funniest guys I've ever been kidnapped by," Ray agreed, trying to check his stomach bandages. Ryan's hands on his cheeks stopped him, pulling his face up so he was looking at Ryan again.

"And I couldn't have kidnapped a cuter guy." 

Ray tried to shoot back a snarky reply, but Ryan pulled him down, and he had to focus on not landing on something injured. And then Ryan was kissing him, which was a direction he did _not_ expect them to go. Even with the flirting. But there they were.

The kiss started soft, Ryan's touch light, like he would let Ray pull away if he wanted. But he didn't. Fuck it, the asshole had been flirting with him long enough, he might as well get something out of it. Ray kissed back, intention clear, and was met with a pleased moan. Fuck yeah.

Ryan was a good kisser. Ray was suddenly insanely jealous of whoever he'd been kissing before, and made the very adult decision to make sure Ryan never had better. He bit at his lip, sucked on his tongue while his hand moved up his chest to less painful areas. Ryan groaned, a deep velvety sound, and Ray grinned internally.

Okay, maybe making out with the guy who had so recently threatened his life wasn't a great idea, but who fucking cared? It went both ways, so it was fine.

His hands on Ryan's chest pushed, forcing him back on the bed and breaking the kiss. "So what do you think's my best course of action here?" Ray asked, settling back on his hips. 

"Hng?" Ryan still sounded muddled, probably from what was left of his blood going to his dick. Ray could see the outline of it hardening through his jeans. Ray reached down and deliberately ground his hand against it, making Ryan hiss and buck up. "How am I getting you off?" he clarified. 

"You keep doing that and‒" he cut off with a strangled whimper, "you'll find out."

"Horny, ain't ya?" Ray teased, moving his hand to thumb the button of Ryan's jeans. 

"Haven't done much of this since I started going around killing people." Ryan admitted, sounding hoarse with the effort of keeping still. That was fun. Ray was committed, getting the bloody pants open and sliding his hand inside. The amazing noise that came from Ryan just spurred him on. Ray kept his eyes firmly on his face as he pushed past his boxers and got his hand on his dick.

"Je‒_sus_!" Ryan was already sweating and straining. His dick was hard and hot, and Ray took his hand away to spit in his palm. Ryan was staring at him like he was the crazy one, but his eyes fluttered closed again when Ray went back and started stroking. "Fuck, you‒ _fuck_!'

Ray slowed his hand, because that second "fuck" hadn't sounded right. "You good?" he asked, eyeing the bandages around Ryan's middle. They weren't bleeding, but when Ryan had bucked his hips up they had looked pretty strained.

"I'm fine." The wheeze in Ryan's voice sounded like he was lying. Ray leaned over him again, his free hand moving to support him by pressing down on Ryan's hip.

"_You_ need to stop moving," Ray ordered, starting his hand up again. Ryan's eyes were so wide, and when he tried to move his hips again Ray's weight stopped him. "I'm serious. Or I'll stop."

"Fuck you're bossy." Ray declined to comment on how much Ryan clearly loved it and kept going, stroking and squeezing him just right, eyes glued to his face. He could feel Ryan's hips straining under his hand, but he wasn't going far. There were some very interesting whimpering noises going on, which just urged Ray to go faster. It felt good, even though he hadn't gotten any attention himself, watching Ryan writhe and gasp and try to get him going faster. Something deep and dark was curling in his chest, making even this more enjoyable than he expected. He liked it. 

He moved his thumb over the head, squeezed Ryan's hip just so, and that was it. Ryan arched off the bed, anchored by Ray's weight, a staggering gasp in his throat as he came all over his hand. "Shit," Ray whispered, watching the show. That hadn't taken long at all, but somehow that felt just fine. Like he'd just done a damn good job.

"Yeah." Ryan sounded all kinds of winded, but one arm found its way to Ray's sleeve and tugged him closer. Ray let himself be pulled back down, taking the opportunity to kiss the living daylights out of Ryan, just to hear him moan again. Even being careful where he was resting his weight, it was worth it to settle into a solid makeout session. Especially since that was probably all he was going to get. It had been fun while it lasted, but his dick was about to fall off and he wasn't sure if it was medically sound to ask the injured guy for a handjob.

Ryan finally pushed him back, eyes trailing down towards Ray's crotch. "Got any plans for that?"

"One or two," Ray admitted. 

"I want you to fuck me." Ryan's request floored Ray for a hot second. He hadn't expected that.

"Need I remind you about your little problem here?" Ray's fingers pulled at the edge of his makeshift bandage. If Ryan could barely stay still during a handjob, how would actual sex fuck him up?

"I don't give a shit." Ray was glad to hear that, because he was rapidly heading that direction as well. Ryan's hands snuck up Ray's thighs, fingers ducking under his waistband as he flashed him a sneaky grin. "Please?" he asked, voice so sweet and sneaky. 

Okay then. Any reservations Ray had few right out the window at Ryan's words. Dude wanted to be fucked, and he could oblige. Ray pushed him back down again, loving the breathy little gasp from Ryan. Following him down, Ray bit lightly at his neck, half-wanting to give him a hickey. He'd already given Ryan a damn good scar to remember him by, it seemed redundant but damn the idea was still so hot Ray had to press his hips to the bed to stop himself from getting too excited. Ryan's hand was following the waistband around his middle, stroking his lower spine encouragingly. The tingles his hands left just made the rising desire in his middle burn. Ryan was so fucked.

"Wait." Ryan's abrupt word brought Ray to a halt. "You're legal, right? Like, age of consent legal?" 

Ray sat up and stared at him. "Seriously? You killed like a dozen people and you're worried about that?"

Ryan still looked concerned. "I don't have a problem killing people‒"

"No way, really?"

"-but this is actually serious, you know?" Bless his heart, Ryan looked so worried. Ray leaned back into his space, staring him down.

"I'm old enough to fuck you, Ryan the crazy murderer guy." Ryan smiled with relief. "Now can I get back to what I was doing?"

"Yeah," Ryan agreed shakily. 

"Okay. Don't move." Ray scrambled off the bed, booking it to the bathroom and half falling over in the process. The tiny bottle of complementary lotion would have to do.

"Where the fuck would I go?" Ryan asked when Ray returned. He had kicked off his pants and underwear and was sprawled with his knees apart, watching Ray with barely-concealed eagerness. "You seriously think I'm in any condition to take off right now?"

"Think you already did, didn't you?" Ray smirked and kept deliberate eye contact as he drizzled the lotion on his hand. Ryan fucking shivered at the sight. "Besides, this could be a dastardly plot to get my guard down."

Dropping his hand, he rubbed his fingers over Ryan's hole, smearing the lotion in. Ryan's hips bucked, driving his shoulders back into the pillows. "You don't have to worry about me," he gasped, eyes screwed shut and hands fisting the sheets. "You've got me at your mercy here."

"Damn right I do." Ray used one hand to guide Ryan's legs wider, sinking the tip of one finger in as he leaned forward and ran his teeth over Ryan's chest. He tasted faintly of blood and salt, and quivered again at the touch. Fucking hell. Ray had to focus, trying to clamp down on the feeling building in him. It wasn't the fucking time for that. Ryan tensed as he slid in further. "You're good right? Not gonna pop a stitch?"

"I'm fucking fantastic," Ryan breathed. This probably wasn't the best idea, but damn if that wasn't his fucking life. Ray saw Ryan's hips try to buck up again and leaned against his thigh, thwarting the action.

"You fucking stay still."

Instead of arguing, Ryan went limp against the mattress, letting Ray manhandle his legs wider again. Ray got another finger in, working him open, eyes on his rapidly moving chest. He wondered how long he could draw it out, if Ryan could get it up again if he kept going. Or if it would just be worth it to keep driving him fucking nuts.

Ryan looked amazing like this, face flushed and eyes half closed. Keeping his grip on his leg tight, Ray circled a third finger around his hole, watching for any strain. Despite everything, there was no uncertainty in Ryan, no shying away or pulling back. Unexpected, but whatever. Ray wondered if it was the blood loss or if this was just what he was like in bed. He couldn't complain. 

"How you doin'?" Ray asked, just to be nice.

"I don't want you to stop," Ryan mumbled as Ray slid his fingers in further. His hand found the fabric of Ray's jeans and squeezed it between his fingers. "I want more‒ I want _so_ much more. I can't even think straight."

"I never think straight," Ray joked, reaching for what he knew. This was getting into unfamiliar territory, things he wasn't expecting. Ryan seemed to be going along with it, but what if he was going the wrong direction? What if he fucked up?

Okay, but who cared? Ryan certainly didn't, not when Ray finally found what he was searching for, and had to put all his weight down to keep Ryan from bucking up. Even if he fucked up, it wasn't like he'd ever see the guy again.

"I'll give you what you want," Ray threatened in a low voice. "But only if you stay still, right here, stay fucking loose for me." Ryan was staring at him like he'd die if he moved away, but Ray did, stripping out of his shirt and jeans. The staring was really something, making that pleased little thing in the center of his chest curl up tighter. Ray crawled back over him, shoving his boxers down, giving a little bit of a show. "I wanna hear you say it again."

"I want you to fuck me," Ryan said, with feeling.

"Now who's bossy?" Ray pushed Ryan's legs apart, lined himself up, and staring him dead in the eye, started pushing in. Fucking hell he was tight, but the prolonged whining was nothing but encouraging. Ray swore, biting his lip, almost losing it at the feeling. He couldn't stop, not now, not with Ryan's wanting eyes on him.

"God. Damn. _Fuck!_" Ray wasn't sure exactly what Ryan had ever gotten up to before they had stumbled into bed together, but this seemed to be a new experience to him. His breathing was ragged, eyes glassy, but the big stupid grin that crawled across his face when Ray was fully in was so damn pleased. The dark hot center of Ray wanted to wipe it off.

"Gonna start fucking you now," Ray warned. "I'm only gonna tell you one more time, stay still." He didn't think Ryan would listen, not since his only leverage against him was, well, they were already past that point, but he still didn't want Ryan fucking up his stitches.

He grabbed Ryan by the hips and thrusted, once, enjoying the sharp gasp that caused, and kept going, setting up a quick rhythm. Ryan still tensed, still tried to buck his hips up, despite Ray squeezing his thigh in warning. He reached his arms up to grab the headboard, but seemed to reconsider with a wince.

"Ow," he hissed.

"Don't do that then," Ray advised, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. Ryan shifting had caused him to clench down, and he really didn't need that kind of help.

"You have no idea what I want to do." Ray could guess from the breathless eagerness in his voice, and filed away the thought. He couldn't be distracted, hand to keep going. Couldn't think of what he could or could not do in the situation they were in. He kept thrusting, kept moving the only way he could, kept fighting the urge to do anything that might hurt him more. He didn't want to hurt Ryan, but…but…

But the idea of doing other things to him was so damn unfair. Ray brought his hand up and wrapped it around Ryan's dick, jerking roughly, making Ryan swear and gasp. It wasn't fucking fair, but that was life, he didn't ever get what he wanted, especially when what he wanted was to find out exactly what Ryan wanted from him.

The more he fucked him, the less noise Ryan made, moans turning higher and breather with every thrust. Ray knew he was probably going too hard, but he was literally going to explode so he wanted to make Ryan lose it first. Arching over Ryan, he drove down against him, grabbing his shoulder for leverage, too tight, too hard, but holy fuck. Ryan went quiet in his grip, eyes going wide as he jerked and clenched, a silent scream on his face. Fucking finally. Ray let himself go, losing himself in the feeling, the sweet rush of relief. So much he almost forgot who he was, who he was with. It almost felt perfect.

Ray pulled out, feeling the shakiness in his limbs. The dark feeling was gone, and now he felt too loose, too uncertain again. What was he supposed to do after fucking his one-time kidnapper? What was the fucking protocol for sex after surgery? None of the porn he had ever watched had covered that!

"Come here." Ryan at least had ideas. Ray let himself be dragged down, trying to avoid any wet or tender spots. Ryan turned into him, wrapping his arms around his middle and oh fuck, he should have known. Ryan was a fucking cuddler. 

"Okay, easy." Ray tried to arrange himself so he wasn't banging anything hurt, but Ryan was determined. His grinned, stupid and sloppy, and gently touched Ray's cheek. Ray almost shook him off, but Ryan dove in for a kiss anyway.

The kiss was slow and deep, like they had all the time in the world. Ray could taste a faint hint of blood in his mouth, a reminder. It felt wrong.

Finally Ryan pulled away, the hand on his cheek moving to Ryan through his hair. "That was… amazing," he admitted. Ray grinned like the asshole he was.

"You're fucking welcome," he answered, basking in the praise. It had been good, while it lasted. Almost worth it.

"Definitely coming back to you next time I get hurt," Ryan slurred. "You're better than any hospital." 

Ray's grin fell right back off his face. Ryan didn't notice, eyes already closed, half-asleep already. He probably had no idea what he was saying. 

Ray waited until the hand on his head went floppy before sitting up. Ryan was passed out cold, and Ray moved quietly as he got dressed and slipped out the door. The room was paid for another day ‒ if Ryan was smart enough he'd be able to get out of there without being suspicious. But that was his problem, not Ray's. 

There was no point in hanging around any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

“Is it weird if I ask a question?”

Ray's voice echoed around the warehouse, way too alarmingly loud. He exhaled, breathing through his mouth, kicking himself silently. Why did he have to open his fucking stupid mouth? The killer in the shadows would be able to find him, he had the advantage, so many places to hide, while Ray's dumb ass was stranded high up in the open. He was so screwed.

"Yes."

His target's voice was deep, and it also echoed around the space. But it definitely originated from his left. Ray carefully shifted his position, feet on both of the beams extending from the support at his back. He had to keep behind it, or he was _fucked_.

At least then he wouldn't have much longer to question the terrible life choices that led him to this particular moment of stupidity. 

Oh right, the question. "Has this happened to you a lot?" Ray asked, totally casually, like they were just getting coffee or something. A totally nice normal date where no one tried to kill one another. 

"Do you mean me defending myself from someone trying to kill me?" The Vagabond sounded amused, but Ray couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. "Because yeah. I feel like I have a right to do that."

"I mean like this, specifically," Ray elaborated. "What are your odds against deliberate assassinations?" Why did he have to call it that? "I'm just tryin' to figure out my odds here."

"It's not looking good for you," the Vagabond's creepy voice chuckled. Did he say 'looking' because he had eyes on Ray? Ray ducked his head out quickly, eyes scanning the gaps between storage containers. Fuck his asshole, where _was_ the guy? "But you get this particular honor. Never been personally targeted before."

"Hard to believe that." The sound of something hitting metal made Ray jump so hard he almost slipped. Even if he wasn't scared of heights, he didn't want to fall from his spot. Then the Vagabond could get him. "I've heard about some of your greatest hits," Ray continued. "You're moving up pretty fast."

"Why, thank you." Sure, compliment. Keep him happy. How had that fuck found out Ray was stalking him anyway? He'd been careful, like usual, getting set up in his sniper's nest well before the Vagabond was supposed to show. But the guy had snuck in behind him. 

It was only sheer dumb luck Ray hadn't been shot dead unaware. His arm burned where the Vagabond's shot had grazed it, blood slowly oozing through his hoodie. But it wasn't his dominant arm. If he was lucky, he could still shoot the fuck.

"If I were you, though, I'd be worrying about my own odds for survival." Was the Vagabond taunting him or just making conversation back? "You get points for lasting this long, but you're thirty feet in the air with minimal cover. Either I'm gonna shoot you or you're gonna fall, and that won't be pretty."

"What are you talking about, I'm totally secure up here," Ray lied through his teeth. What else could he do? The Vagabond had a point, he was screwed in so many ways. Maybe he should jump down and make a run for it…

"Yeah, you look super secure." Ray swore under his breath and jerked his head around. _He couldn't fucking see him_. The Vagabond was playing with him, he knew he had the upper hand, holy _fuck_ it was both terrifying and seriously annoying. Why couldn't the guy just kill him and get it over with?

"I just want you to know," Ray tried keeping his voice light and pleasant, "it's not personal, okay? Like, I just need rent money, I don't even give a shit about the rep or anything, I'm just doin’ a fucking job‒"

“I understand that." Fuck his creepy voice. "But you're making it personal by trying to kill me, and I don't appreciate it. Do you expect me to just let this go?"

A lightbulb went off in Ray's head. "What if I told you who hired me?" Ray suggested. "That's the guy you want, right? Not my stupid ass."

"I wouldn't say no to your stupid ass." _What?_ "But you're willing to sell out your employer?" the Vagabond continued, totally glossing over what he'd just implied.

"Um, so I can live? Yes?" Ray resisted the urge to tack a "duh" at the end of that statement. Like, seriously, did he really think Ray had some kinda loyalty or job ethics? "I told you, I don't give a fuck about anything except the paycheck and I can honestly walk after what he prepaid, so really the best way to fix this problem is to let me live and tell you who's after you."

"You make a very eloquent point." Okay yeah, he was rambling. He needed to stop before the Vagabond decided he wasn't worth keeping alive. "How much you get offered for me?"

"Oh, I don't know if I wanna tell you." Even though he'd mostly dropped the creepy voice, the Vagabond was not to be fucked with. "If you get pissed, can you promise not to shoot me?"

That was a joke, a bad one, but the Vagabond still answered it. "Only if it's low enough I should be offended."

Ray's return laugh was equal parts nervous and giddy relief. "45k."

"_Fuck_, how high is your rent?" Ray had to cover his mouth when he snorted. His arm hurt with the movement. “I've killed for way less." That was an understatement. "Like for free," the Vagabond clarified, unnecessarily. 

"Would you let me live if I fork it over?" Ray offered. "Forty five and a blowjob?" Oh God, why did he have to say _that_? That wasn't flirting, if they were even _flirting_ and now the Vagabond was gonna get pissed for sure.

"How much did he prepay you?" The Vagabond's voice was tinged with confusion.

"Oh. Fuck." Great, now the Vagabond knew he was bad at math and bad at flirting. And now he was laughing at him. "Shut up. I got prepaid twenty two, is that good?"

"You'd give me the whole thing?"

"I mean, if I fucking live, sure!" Honestly, he'd even throw in the blowjob if it saved his ass.

"Or we can fake my death, get the total and you can still walk away with half."

Oh. _Oh_. Now that was something. "And I suppose you want to come along to the pickup and…" 

"And, indeed." Yep, that was so in line with what he'd heard about the Vagabond ‒ just started out and was already known as one ruthless motherfucker. "And we can still bang if you're interested."

"Okay, deal," Ray agreed quickly. Why not? Anything to save his ass. "You promise not to shoot me if I stick my head out?"

"Man, you'd've been dead fifty times over if I was feeling serious." Sure enough, as Ray peered around the corner, there was the Vagabond, standing in the space between two shipping containers, with a clear shot at him. Fuck. Ray smiled weakly down at him.

"But you're going to be a gentleman and honor our agreement?" Ray asked, just to be sure.

The Vagabond tilted his head. The creepy skull mask wasn't grinning, but Ray hoped the guy was. "Sure, I am," he agreed, even though the creepy touch to his voice wasn't helping. Ray sighed, unchambering the round and leaving the magazine open. He felt very vulnerable as he shifted his rifle so the scope was lodged in his armpit. But what choice did he have but to go along with the guy? 

With a quick burst of speed, Ray darted out along the beam, throwing himself to the side and rolling into the impact on the shipping container beneath. Using his momentum, he continued off the side, stopping his fall with the sides of the container. Fucking nailed it. He rounded the corner to face his former target, who was obviously staring.

"How did you do that without breaking your neck?" he asked incredulously. 

Ray shrugged with a manic grin, slinging his gun over his shoulder. "I'm a fucking parkour master, that's how. Gimme your jacket."

The Vagabond didn't move. "Unless you really wanna play dead, or gimme your mask" Ray continued, pulling out his cell phone. "I gotta get photo evidence either way."

"You have a camera phone?"

"Hell yeah. Got it with my first paycheck for killin’ a guy." Ray snapped his phone open with one hand as the other reached out to take the offered jacket. It was warm, and now Ray could really see the muscles on the Vagabond's arms. Damn, the getting fucked prospect suddenly wasn't such an issue. He put it on and held his phone out, trying to get the angle right.

The Vagabond stuck his head around to see the screen. "Little more," he murmured, pushing Ray's hand a smidge. Ray grinned triumphantly and hit the button on the side. When he flipped his phone back around, the little grainy picture on the screen showed him wearing the one and only Vagabond's jacket. 

"Good enough," he decided, saving the picture and adding it to a text message. A few clicks and the evidence was on its way. "Now we wait." He shot the Vagabond a grin. "Got any ideas how to spend the time?"

The look through the mask turned pointed. "Not that," Ray blurted out. "Save it for after the job's done."

"Oh, I'll hold you to that." Was he serious? He couldn't be, there was no way he'd gotten his reputation so quickly if he was flirting with all his targets. Right? And Ray's dumb ass was flirting back because he didn't know if it was serious or not. "You can give me my jacket back."

Dammit. Ray was hoping he wouldn't mention it. "Not gonna let me have a souvenir?" Ray asked, letting his disappointment show as he slipped the jacket off.

"I plan on giving you something better." Yep, he was serious. He was moving in closer too, crowding into Ray's space. And because he was a fucking weirdo himself, Ray felt himself getting warm in response. Fuck it, this wouldn't be the weirdest way he'd gotten laid. And he wasn't about to say no to the prospect. He'd done worse. 

Ray tilted his head back, already thinking of how to get under that mask, but his phone abruptly going off stopped them both. Ray made a frantic zipping motion over his mouth before he answered. "You get that pic?" he asked in greeting.

"How'd you get him?" Ray grinned at the distrust in his employer's voice. Little did he know.

"With a positive can-do attitude," he said cheerfully. The Vagabond shook his head. He was still really close. "When can I get the rest of the take?”

“You wait. I’m coming there.” Well, shit.

“You don’t believe me?” Ray widened his eyes at the Vagabond. “I’m hurt.”

"Need to see the body, kid." _Fuck._ "That gonna be a problem?" Yeah, a bit, but Ray didn't mention that.

"Okay, fine, I'll be here. Hurry it up before it starts to smell." Ray flipped his phone closed with a dramatic click and glanced up at the Vagabond. "Guess you gotta play dead after all."

"You didn't ask how many were coming." The Vagabond backed away so he could start pacing, shoulders hunched and a suspicious look in his eye. "Don't have a lot to come up with a plan with."

"He'd be suspicious if I did." Ray shrugged and shifted to get his gun out of his pants. The eyeballing increased. Ray kept deliberate eye contact as he unloaded and checked the clip, more interested in assuring himself that he was loaded and ready than in not freaking out the Vagabond. 

"You could be setting me up," the Vagabond said suspiciously. Ray rolled his eyes. Now it was getting ridiculous. 

"Yeah, so my plan always was to get nearly murdered by you but live through sheer dumb luck and my charming wit, gain your trust to double-cross my employers, to whom I owe no loyalty except to the offer of a paycheck, but in reality I'm really plotting against you as well and hoping you'll be downed in the crossfire." He sighed. "That sounds fucking exhausting and way too much effort. If I was gonna do something I would have done it a few minutes ago when you were gettin all porno-y."

There was no way to tell what face the Vagabond was making under the mask. Ray forced himself not to tense when he stalked closer again, no trace of flirtation in his steps. His hand settled over Ray's on the gun, pointing it towards the floor and flicking on the safety. His head bent next to Ray's ear.

"If you double cross me like you did them, you will regret it for the remainder of your short, painful life."

His low voice sent tingles down Ray's spine. Oh yeah, he was fucked up. "All I want is to make more money and give more blowjobs," he said easily. "Hard to do when you're dead."

"Hard to do when you're dead," the Vagabond agreed, backing away again. "So we still don't know what kind of force is heading our way."

"Probably just a few guys," Ray offered, not thrown off by the topic change at all. "I mean, he's only expecting me here, and your dead body."

"Hmm…" The Vagabond leaned against a storage container, looking lost in thought. Ray looked at him, then around their surroundings. He wasn't paid to ask questions, but now one snuck into his head.

"So what were _you_ doing here anyway?" he asked. "They told me you'd be here." 

The Vagabond stopped. "They did?" He sounded like he had some kind of idea hit him. The look through the eye holes was sharp.

"You're guarding something here, aren't you?" Bingo. The Vagabond nodded. "Something my guys want," Ray continued. 

"They'll bring more people then," the Vagabond said, "so they can pick the stuff up." 

Damn. That really put a damper on the plan Ray had been cooking. He squinted up at the rafters. "Look, I know we were joking earlier, but I really would feel more secure up top."

"Of course you would." Ray almost choked on his spit. He hadn't even meant it like _that_. At least the Vagabond was back to being flirty instead of threatening. 

"Should we stick to the dead body plan?" he asked. "Or ambush?"

"Ambush," the Vagabond agreed, eyes tracking along the rafters. A new plan popped into Ray's head.

"Actually… I have an idea…"

'Some idea,' Ray thought to himself a half hour later. He was back where he had been, up in the rafters with a pillar at his back, but now he was sitting, legs dangling in open air, the picture of ease. Totally innocuous. Nothing suspicious going on at all.

The big doors at the end of the warehouse opened, admitting the boss and a bunch of his people. Probably a dozen. Great. Ray forced a grin on his face and waved at them like they were neighbors over the fence.

"Took you guys long enough," he said cheerfully. The boss gave him a grumpy frown. 

"Where's the Vagabond?"

"Where's my money?” Ray shot back. He would fucking lose his shit if this turned out to be a setup. That's why he hated working with gangs ‒ everything was all sneaky and questionable and you never knew who to trust. Give him a simple headshot assassination any day.

Thank God, the boss held up a briefcase hopefully full of money. Ray grinned and pointed directly below where he was sitting. "He's right here for ya." The boss nodded at his people, who started making their way towards the shipping container the Vagabond had been guarding. The boss began making his way over to Ray, threading through the aisles of containers. Ray tightened his grip on the gun in his lap. The way the warehouse was laid out, he wouldn't be able to reach Ray by a direct path. He'd have to keep at a distance until he got around the last container to where Ray was.

Ray could hear the distant sounds of the other things breaking into the container. The boss was nearly there, walking down the final row, disappearing from view behind a stack of containers. When he turned the corner, he stared at the floor, with no body to be found, then up to Ray, who had his gun in hand pointed right at him.

"I lied!" Ray said cheerfully, before firing. 

The shot distracted the thugs, who didn't notice the Vagabond lurking in the storage container until he began firing. Ray jumped down into cover, landing next to his former boss's body. He scooped up the briefcase with a grin and a "thanks" before running through the maze himself to get to where the action was.

The action was over before he actually got to it. Damn, the Vagabond was good. Ray stopped before he rounded the corner, not wanting to walk into something like an idiot. "Promise not to shoot me if I stick my head out?"

"Only if you're alone."

"Same with you, man." The laugh he got was encouraging. Ray stuck his head out, and sure enough, the Vagabond was alone, surrounded by bodies. Ray grinned. That was too easy.

"You get your money?" Ray nodded and triumphantly held up the case. "Good. Then are you going to make good on your promise of a blowjob?"

"Shit, now?" Figured the Vagabond would be horny after killing people. He was just as fucked up as Ray was. "Maybe not in front of the dead bodies?"

"You're no fun," the Vagabond teased, but turned to lead him away. Ray thought about not following him, just turning and running and hoping he got away. But no, that would put him on the Vagabond's bad side, and Ray was standing in the evidence of why he shouldn't get on that side. Besides, it was just a blowjob. 

The air outside was cool and refreshing. Ray barely had time to put his sniper and the case down before the Vagabond was back in his space, crowding him back against the wall. The Vagabond's hands settled on his shoulder, gripping tight, forcing him into place. Ray let himself be manhandled, meeting his eye through the mask. He didn't expect reciprocation, or anything really, but the Vagabond was sliding his mask up, and that was opening up a whole new realm of possibilities. 

"I didn't like your plan, but I like how it worked." Ray liked his lips, the way they were forming words. "And I like how you haven't turned on me yet."

"Told you, I'm an easy guy. Money and BJ's, that's all it takes to make me happy." Ray was ready to drop to his knees, but the Vagabond's hands held firm. Ray could see a hint of a smile.

"I like easy guys." That's already got before the Vagabond was kissing him. And _damn_, he was going at it hard and fast, forcing his way into Ray's mouth. It was like he knew what Ray liked.

Ray opened for him, a picture of relaxation, even though a hint of nerves had him by the spine. Yeah, they'd joked, they'd flirted, and now they were here, but where was it going to go? Was it just a blowjob, as promised, or would the Vagabond try some freaky shit. Probably, yeah, and Ray would probably be down with that, but to what end? That's what he didn't know, didn't like not knowing.

He was liking the kissing. A lot. Especially the way the Vagabond kept biting at his lip, letting his teeth linger. There was a dark promise there that Ray did like. And the way the Vagabond pulled back with a grin, trailing lips and teeth down his neck to kiss at the skin, winding Ray tighter with anticipation.

“Oh my fucking God, just do it!” Ray hissed. He felt the grin against his skin.

“If you insist.”

That was all the warning he got before he felt the teeth against his skin bite down. Ray groaned, flinching against the pain that felt so good. This whole thing was fucking awesome. Fuck it, maybe he was a little crazy if he got off on this shit, but it was more fun with all the danger. He couldn't explain it, but he liked it.

"Told you I'd give you a souvenir," the Vagabond murmured darkly against his skin. Ray groaned and grabbed the Vagabond by the back of the neck, hauling him up so Ray could get at his mouth again. The other got to work on the Vagabond's belt. The kiss was growing stronger, the pressure against his body setting off a fierce tingle down his spine. Strong hands against his shoulders, the slide of a tongue against his sending delicious shivers down his spine. Ray got his hand up under his shirt, finding that heat, sliding against oddly bumpy skin‒ 

Wait a minute. 

Ray pulled back with a gasp. "Oh my God, _Ryan_?"

In a heartbeat, everything changed. The grip on his arm turned from sexy to dangerous, squeezing tight while the other hand had a knife from fucking _somewhere_ against his throat. Ray choked as he was pressed harder into the wall, trying to pull his brain back together. Holy fuck, it was him. 

"How do you know my name?" The Vagabond‒ Ryan!- was right in his fucking face, sounding all kinds of pissed off. Well fuck it, now Ray was pissed too. He could see the bottom of the scar where his mask was pushed up. It _was_ him.

"It’s Ray, you dumbass." Ray slapped his face lightly, right on the scar. "Remember? I stitched you up in a fucking bait shop after I stabbed you in the face."

The Vagabond froze. Ray could almost see the gears working. Ray grabbed ahold of the mask when he pulled away, revealing his surprised face. A familiar face. Fuck his ass.

"But…" Ray could see the way his eyes were scanning over his face, uncomprehending, before something clicked.

"I'm wearing contacts you idiot!" Ray snapped. "Seriously? You didn't recognize me without my glasses?!"

"Oh. Um." The tight grip on his shoulders loosened. Ryan took a step back, looking as awkward as anyone could be with his clothes still on. "I guess I should have figured that out before, huh?"

"No fucking shit, dumbass." Ray could feel something growing in his chest. This wasn't just some scary murderous guy who kept flirting with him, this was _that specific_ scary murderous guy who kept flirting with him. "I can't fucking believe‒ you're the fucking _Vagabond_?!"

"You're the one who told me to get a look to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies!" Ray could hear it in his voice, the familiarity there. No wonder they had jumped right back into snarking and fucking.

"And you were gonna fucking double cross me, weren't you?" Ryan had the decency to look bad about it."Seriously dude? That's a dick move."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not gonna now," Ryan said sheepishly.

"Yeah, that makes me feel loads better." Ray eyed the distance between them. "Can we get back to what we were doing?"

"Are you serious?" Ryan looked stunned, like the possibility that Ray still wanted to fuck was that crazy. They'd already done it once, under worse circumstances, so what was the big deal?

"Like a heart attack," Ray answered, yanking on his belt. "You started it, now you gotta finish it." It was just stubbornness, he told himself as he stared back at Ryan. Not because he was happy to get back with one of his favorite screws. It was just sex, after a successful job. No biggie.

Ryan sighed and stepped back into range, hands lifting to cup Ray's face. "I suppose I have to be nicer to you now, right?”

Ray snapped his hand up and had him by the hair in an instant. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled. “You got the nice treatment last time cause you were bleeding your guts out.”

"That was nice?!" Ryan didn't get a chance to argue more when Ray slammed their mouths together. Now that he knew who exactly he was kissing, Ray found the edge of nervousness was fading, and the darker something rising. And Ryan, instead of taking the lead again, was melting under his hands and his mouth, a low moan in his throat. 

God, this was…alarming how good it was. Ray wasn't gonna say he hadn't thought about their first encounter a lot, but it certainly stood out in his memory for various reasons. And now he had the guy back, moaning shamelessly against his mouth again, and they had obviously changed directions and Ray was in the driver's seat and he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You gonna make me do all the work again?" Ray whispered darkly in Ryan's ear, enjoying the way he shuddered against him. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had fond memories of their time together. 

"You can do whatever the hell you want." Yep, that was Ryan alright. Ray pulled him back into a kiss to stall him, turning ideas over in his head. They were still too close to the scene of the crime, too many complications standing in the way of getting horizontal. But he wasn't about to let Ryan walk away without anything. 

"Get on your knees."

It was stupid how fast Ryan dropped. Like a string had been cut. The dark thing in Ray's chest surged again, delighted by this turn of events. Ray got his hand in Ryan's hair, not pulling yet, but just there as a reminder. Ryan didn't have to be told what to do next. There was a look in his eye as he got Ray's pants open, got his dick out, which was a lot more excited about upcoming events than it was a minute ago. Ryan didn't wait, just dived right in and got him in his mouth like he was starving for it.

"Holy _fuck_, man!" Ray banged his head back against the wall. "Ow. Fuck, you‒ God!" It was so much, Ryan's mouth and his tongue working at him. Ryan sucked his dick like it was the only thing he wanted, like all he wanted to do was be on his knees. Ray closed his eyes tight, the sight was almost _too_ much. To think it had almost been the other way around.

Ryan pulled off with a gasp, one hand on Ray, stroking while he caught his breath. "Wanted to do this last time," he whispered, just loud enough for Ray to hear, lips against the skin of his stomach. "Couldn't, but I thought about it a lot. Every time I saw the scar on my face."

"Shut up and get your mouth back to work," Ray ordered. Ryan did, immediately, going deep this time, trying to swallow him down. That didn't work ‒ he pulled back with a choking noise that shot straight down Ray's dick, but didn't pull away when Ray tightened his hand in his hair. One jerk was all he needed‒ Ryan moaned and let Ray move his head back and forth, letting him fuck his mouth. Ray was on fire, burning from the inside, relishing the tight heat of Ryan's mouth. There was no technique, Ryan obviously didn't know exactly what he was doing, but Ray, as a fucking dick-sucking champion, did.

Ray didn't let him pull away either, as the heat rising up consumed him, leaving him gasping at the cold air as he came down Ryan's throat. It was blinding hot and Ryan swallowed it all down. Holy fucking shit.

Ryan fucking stayed on his knees too, as Ray got his breath back, trying not to think about everything that had happened. It was there on the edge of his mind, ready to creep back in once the heady feeling died down, but right now there was Ryan, looking up at him like that, and he really didn't want to think about it.

"Get up here." Ryan scrambled back to his feet. Ray grabbed at the jacket, hauling him back in for a kiss, trying to push the dizzy feeling away. The burning feeling was still there. He wanted more.

"What are you going to do to me now?" Ryan sounded _wrecked_. That was super gratifying. Ray smirked at him and bit at his lip, tasting salt. 

"Whatever I want," he reminded him, hand finding the familiar topography of his lower stomach. Ryan shuddered and groaned, slumping close in to him, breathing against the side of his neck shakily as Ray found his way into his pants. He was hard and hot and Ray found the wetness at the tip, smearing it around and slicking his way. Ryan gasped and bucked his hips and Ray let him, bringing his lips to his ear.

"You need to be quiet, or we're gonna get caught." Ryan's gasps died in a choked whimper. He pressed his face into Ray's neck, back arching. Ray ran his fingers down it. "You don't want to be caught like this," he continued, fighting a grin when Ryan's hips shuddered. "Big bad Vagabond, sucking dick and getting off over little old me." The sweet darkness in his chest _burned_. "There'd go your reputation."

"I'd kill them," Ryan whispered breathily. "You get it, not them. No one gets it but you."

Ray wasn't sure what he was getting, exactly, besides what he'd already got, but whatever. He moved his hand faster, slid his hand under the jacket to run his fingernails down his spine, though his shirt. "No one gets it but you," he repeated, and apparently those were the magic fucking words. Ryan made a choking noise against his skin as his hips jerked, coming against Ray's hand like that was all he was waiting for. Ray grinned to himself. He was so fucking easy.

"Fuck, Ray." Fuck indeed. If he thought Ryan had sounded wreaked before‒ "You just…you…_fuck._"

"You're fucking welcome," Ray said cheerfully, wiping his hand on Ryan's pants. Ryan was still too close, breathing wetly against Ray's neck; he could feel his lips moving. Something else was growing in his chest besides the dark burning bit. He had to stop. 

Ray managed to push Ryan away, even though his arms wanted to pull that warm heaviness closer. 

Ryan blinked at him, face flushed and grinning madly. "Next time, can we do this without some stupid life-threatening bullshit first?" he asked. "Not that it's not fun, but…" he trailed off with an almost breathless giggle. 

Seeing Ryan's blissed-out face wasn't helping. Ray forced himself to focus, remember what his job was. What he was.

"Life-threatening bullshit is what we do," he reminded Ryan. "Next time, maybe we'll have more of our shit together." Like, maybe being professional enough not to start banging as soon as the job was done. "Listen, I don't know if it's a _me_ thing or whatever‒" 

"Probably a you thing," Ryan agreed.

"But the flirting? Not as scary as you think it is," Ray advised. "Kinda makes you less intimidating."

"You just don't want me flirting with anyone else," Ryan teased. There was something bright in his eyes, something sappy about his grin. Fuck. Ray felt himself pulling back, unraveling them where they had tangled together. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. 

"I bet you kill all the guys you flirt with," Ray said, forcing his voice back to normal range. Ryan blinked, a serious look settling back on his face. A reminder of who he was and how they were.

"You're the notable exception." Even with the coldness creeping back in his voice, Ryan's hand still found its way to his cheek. Ray forced himself not to lean into it.

"I'm not gonna tell," he found himself saying anyway. The words were locked up tight with the dark feeling in his chest, with the memory of Ryan's face when he came and the scar only Ray got to see. That was his. No one else's. 

"I wouldn't trust anyone else not to." No. He wouldn't, would he. Big bad Vagabond, brought to his knees by Ray, not even a hint of hesitation or thought of betrayal. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

"I gotta‒" Ray pulled away, snatching up his rifle and putting as much space between them as he could. "Gotta get out of here before they come after me."

"They won't." Ryan bent to retrieve his mask, shrugging his shoulders so the jacket settled again. Back to business. "I'm not done here. I'll make them think I finished you off." Despite Ray's warning, he still winked.

"Okay," Ray agreed, fighting the urge to go back and get that look off his face again. "Just don't get fucked up, cause we're not doing that again."

Ryan's laugh followed him as he walked away. He was probably thinking Ray was talking about patching him up again, but he wasn't. He was talking about all of it‒ working together, fucking, getting stupid towards the other. It wasn't happening again.


End file.
